I realised I was gay a year before I auditioned for the band, and sometimes I forget that fact. I forget that I was gay before Oliver Godfrey came into my orbit. I would wake up every morning when I was younger and stare at my Vanessa Hudgens calendar, thinking about maybe jacking off to it, but I never did. Not wanting to wank over a picture of a hot girl doesn't make you gay, but wanting to wank over her boyfriend might.

But I couldn't have a poster of Zac Efron on my wall for three reasons; two older brothers and my dad.

So I kept it locked away in a dark corner of my mind and only let it out in my dreams or when I was home alone. I made sure not to lust after anyone at school, in the street, or in pubs when I was old enough to get in. I paid attention to no one, slept with no one, and I guess it paid off, because now, I have no baggage. No one from my past can go to Perez Hilton or Hello! Magazine and say I sucked them off behind the science block. No one can say they saw me snogging a guy in the toilets at Nandos.

They've got nothing on me, and it's like I knew I would have people scream my name in sold out arenas by the time I was twenty one years old.

Twenty one years old.

Demitri has outdone himself, and by outdone himself, I mean he's bought the largest fucking cake I've ever seen. We're slowly rolling through traffic on the outskirts of a city in Texas, and everyone is staring at me as lit candles blow in the breeze of the open window. They all grin at me, Oliver and Luke sat on the sofas and Demitri stood next to me, clutching onto my shoulders like he's a raven sat on top of me.

Today is a good day for Demitri; his hair is curlier than ever, his dark skin is glowing, I want him to be like this forever and always, but it flicks on and off like a light switch and some days, we'll never see him.

But I don't think about that, today is a good day.

"Three cheers for the birthday boy!" His Irish accent rings throughout the bus, curling into our ears. A couple of rounds of "Hip-hip! Hooray!" and I'm ready to smash my face into the cake which is, of course, Spiderman themed.

"Make a wish, Scottie!" It's 10am but Luke's already got a bottle open, it lingering near his lips at all times. I look to Oliver, his chin resting on his forearms that lie on the table. His face is lit by the glow of the candle, his eyes looking up at me as he smiles, waiting for me to say something, to think something, like he might hear it.

I close my eyes. I wish Oliver Godfrey would kiss me on stage.

I take a deep breath, pulling everything I have into the wish, when a shrill Irish voice that isn't Demitri erupts into the bus. Candice has woken up.

"Scottie!" She croons, scuttling over in a vest top and her underwear. "Happy Birthday!" She shoves Demitri, her twin brother, out of the way and plants a kiss on my cheek. It's way too long, way too wet, and I force myself not to screw up my face and push her off of me. When she moves away, she joins Oliver, by sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.

She does it in a way that forces him to think about nothing but her hands and her arms and her legs. She makes it so that he can do nothing but pay attention to her. I would have thought she wouldn't do it today of all days, on my fucking birthday.

Everyday Candice is on this bus with us, I'm reminded that Oliver Godfrey is heterosexual, and that I am the green eyed monster. I watch Candice kiss the tip of his nose and then turn to me, her legs draped over him like an Irish pin-up girl. Oh, I'm sorry, an Irish-Mexican pin up girl.

"Made a wish yet?"

"I was just about to."

"Make it a good one, Scottie. You're only twenty-one once."

I smile to myself. I wish Candice Fitzpatrick didn't matter.